Not Bones
by Oneturtledove
Summary: Some dishes, some confessions, and a talk about Maslow's hierarchy.


Disclaimer: You have no idea how much I wish I didn't have to write this part.

Spoilers: Mayhem on the Cross

A/N: This is my first Bones fic. I tried to keep them in character and when they're not I tried really hard to explain why. Sometimes it's good to experiment I guess. Be gentle.

* * *

It was nearly ten o'clock when the two psychologists left Booth's apartment. He was glad the night had been free from psychoanalysis; the two men had been more interested in comparing weird patients. Bones had been eyeing him the whole night, probably conducting a psychoanalysis of her own, even if she didn't know it. He almost wished she would leave too, but the fact that she had found an apron and was helping him to clean up the kitchen was worth the looks.

They stood together at the sink, the soapy water hot, but not too hot as they rinsed dishes. They were quiet as they worked, their minds on something else entirely.

"Booth," she said quietly, in a voice she rarely used. It sounded more like "Boothe" and he only heard it when she was really worried about him.

"Yeah?"

She sighed and glanced up at him and looked away. She wasn't sure how to ask this question. She wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.

They fell into silence again until she pulled the stopper and the water gurgled down the drain.

"Booth, I may not be very good at reading subtle clues or giving advice, but you can tell me things. I can at least listen."

His eyes met hers and he suddenly realized what she had been doing. She had done the dishes, even though the hot water and the slippery soap probably reminded her of the incident she had revealed to him not 4 hours ago. Whether she realized it or not, she was showing him that she had moved past it. She was encouraging him to do the same.

Temperance Brennan was not the best person to have on your trivial pursuit team, nor could she be relied upon to avoid social faux pas, but when it came to Seeley Booth, she was more in tune than anyone suspected.

Booth grabbed her hand and pulled her into the other room.

"I'm going to tell you this because I trust you. You're my friend and you should probably know this story. But after tonight, I don't want to talk about it again. Is that a deal?"

"It's a deal."

"Promise you won't ask questions until I'm done?"

"You know Booth, the idea of making a promise is actually to question your trust in someone by binding them to something other than their own good word."

"Bones."

"Okay I promise. I won't say a word until you're done."

He nodded and paced for several minutes.

"One summer when I was 13, my parents both had jobs. They were gone most of the day, and Jared and I were left to our own devices. We were playing baseball in the backyard one afternoon and we ended up just throwing the ball at each other. I broke a window. My dad came home about 10 minutes later. I was in the shed getting a tarp to cover the window, so when he saw it, Jared was the one standing there, cleaning up the glass. Dad started wailing on him. By the time I got there, Jared was on the ground and dad was kicking him, telling him he was irresponsible, and he never should have been born. Jared was crying and kept begging me to help him, but I just stood there. I just stood there, Bones, like he didn't matter. By the time dad was done, Jared was unconscious and we had to take him to the hospital. I hated myself for that. I was the older brother and I was supposed to protect him. And the whole thing was my fault to begin with. He took the blame for me. I felt that he would be better off without me. So one day I waited until every one was gone, and I got out my dad's gun. I knew he left it unlocked and loaded. I was sitting on my bed just staring at it when my grandfather came over. He lived a few cities away and had no idea what was going on at home. I told him everything. He made sure I knew it wasn't my fault and he kept making sure, everyday for the next few years. He took me and Jared to his house and we lived with him until my dad's drinking stopped. If it wasn't for him though, I wouldn't be sitting here right now."

Brennan was quiet, knowing she should say something, but not sure what exactly that was. Despite her deep knowledge of all things Booth related, for the first time in her life, she struggled for words.

"Booth, you know that you couldn't have done anything. You couldn't have helped Jared. You were just a kid."

"I know."

"You know it in your head, but do you know it in your heart?"

He glanced up at her, surprise on his face.

"Bones..."

"I listen to stuff you say."

"Thanks. And yes, I do know it, but sometimes that 13 year old kid comes back and I can't help but feel guilty."

"Your father chose to hit Jared. You didn't."

"I know."

They sat quietly for a moment more before she reached over and pulled his forehead down to her lips.

"I'm sorry for what happened to you Booth. I know that I can't change it or take away the memory, but I wish I could. I'm glad your grandfather was there."

"Thanks."

He reached up and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, resolving that the rest of the night -at least- would be free from this kind of talk.

"Want to watch some TV, Bones?"

"TV? With you?"

"It's Shark Week."

"I don't know what that means."

"Or there's a special on the Roman gladiators on the history channel."

"Did you memorize the schedule for every educational channel?"

"And HBO."

She just smiled and settled back into the couch.

"I'll watch for a little while."

"Is it getting too late for you?"

"Not quite."

"You don't have to stay if you-"

"Maybe I want to."

Truth be told, that comment startled him far more than it would have had it come from another woman. Brennan was not like other women though, and despite her ability to drive him absolutely nuts, he wouldn't change anything.

He turned the TV on and she pulled her feet up onto the couch, tucking them underneath her.

"Booth?"

"Yeah?"

"What happened with you and Jared... is that why you are the way you are?"

The question was completely blunt and completely Bones.

"I suppose."

"No elaboration on that?"

"You're smart."

"Yes, I know."

Her head dropped down to his shoulder and she let out a little sigh.

"Bones are you going to fall asleep?"

"Just a few minutes and then I'll go."

"You're not driving like this."

"Two minutes."

He sighed and moved to put his arm around her. She settled into him, her hair tickling his chin. He never in a million years and with lots of hints would he have guessed that his Bones was a cuddler.

"Maybe five minutes," she muttered as her left hand came to rest on his chest.

Did she just nuzzle his collarbone, or was he imagining things?

He had to be imagining it. This was not like her. Bones never reached out for affection. Ever. Maybe she had snuck a fun flask into his apartment and had been taking hits off of it all evening.

He tipped her chin up gently and found that she was asleep. He considered carrying her to his bedroom where she would be more comfortable, but figured he didn't mind sitting like this just for a little while. He turned the TV down and propped his feet up on the coffee table.

"Don't move so much," she complained.

"Sorry. I'm done."

"Good."

She sighed and fell back to sleep, and he started to wonder what had come over her. He had absolutely no point of reference for this kind of behavior.

They must have been sitting like that for an hour before she sat up and stretched.

"Booth, can I stay here? I don't want to drive."

"Sure."

She blinked twice, then resumed the previous position.

"Bones?"

"Hmm?"

"You can sleep in my bed if you want."

"Where will you sleep?"

"Couch."

"That's not good for you. You're too tall."

"Well then what do you suggest?"

"I can sleep in Parker's room."

"No, you take my bed, I'll sleep in Parker's room. If I can find the bed, it's a mess in there."

"I don't want to kick you out of your bed, Booth."

"What, you want to share?" he teased, patting her side.

"That might be nice," she answered.

"Who are you and what have you done with Bones?"

"I am Bones."

"You're tired. I think I like you like this."

"Shuddup Booth..." she managed to say before sleep took her over. He sighed and picked her up carefully, taking her into his bedroom. He settled her onto the bed and was just sliding her shoes off when she cracked her eyes open.

"Good night, Booth."

"Night, Bones."

* * *

She woke up a few hours later, and was shockingly and embarrassingly disappointed to find that Booth was not lying next to her. It was a strange feeling, one she had never experienced before. It was unsettling and went against every personality trait she had. But at the same time it was new and thrilling and it delighted her in an almost evil way.

She rubbed her eyes and figured she at least owed it to Booth to make sure he wasn't sleeping on the couch. As she got out of the bed, she made note of the fact that the sheets smelled like Booth, even though he had not been in them in over 24 hours. She walked into the living room and found him asleep in his recliner. Slightly better than the couch, but still enough to make her cringe as she thought of his joints.

"Booth?"

"Bones. What time is it?"

"Sometime after 2, I think. You shouldn't be sleeping in this chair."

"I like it."

"The reason you have a bed is so you can sleep in it."

"Yeah."

"Well then... come on."

He followed her to the bedroom and was amused to see her plop down on the bed too.

"Bones?"

"Yeah?"

"You're on my side."

"I can move."

"No, it's okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep."

"But it obviously meant enough for you to say something."

"Just an observation."

"But-"

"Goodnight, Temperance."

She rolled over so her back was to him and he just lay there in utter amazement. This was NOT Bones. This was a clone or a cyborg or a shapeshifter or something. He was half tempted to reach over and check the back of her neck for alien vertebrae.

He rolled his eyes. No more falling asleep to the Sci-Fi channel.

"Booth," she whispered, twisting around, grabbing his hand, and giving it a tug.

"What?"

"Come here?"

"I am here."

"No, closer."

He was confused, but obeyed anyway, wrapping his arm around her waist.

"You want to spoon, Bones?"

"I don't know what that means."

"What is up with you?"

"Nothing is up."

"You're acting... different."

"How?"

"Do I really have to explain this?"

"Do you really have to question it?"

"You're not acting like yourself."

"So?"

"You're usually so predictable."

"I am?"

"Predictable in a wonderful way. It's just that out of all the things you could have done tonight, the likelihood of you downing and entire gallon of ice-cream was greater than... this."

"I don't quite understand it either, but as Ange says, sometimes you have to go with it."

"That's it, I'm calling Sweets."

"What?"

"You've obviously suffered a mental breakdown."

"Booth, I am fine. This kind of desire is right in Maslow's hierarchy of needs. And while I have achieved self-actualization, sometimes it is necessary to fulfill the previous steps in order to reinforce what has already been learned, therefore adding another facet to self actualization."

"That was pretty psychological for you, Bones."

"Maslow's hierarchy makes a lot of sense in the development of individuals and groups."

"Bottom line?"

"Sometimes I just feel the need to be close to someone. It's not wrong or weird, it just is. And earlier tonight, after you told me about your dad, I lacked the necessary knowledge to comfort you adequately. Sometimes a physical comfort does just as well as words. I don't know why."

"Okay."

"Goodnight, Booth."

"Goodnight, Bones. Thanks for being weird."

"I'm not weird, I'm-"

"I said goodnight, Bones."


End file.
